The First Sign of Ghosts
by Wastelocked-Stories
Summary: Wolfwood Vash gay slash in later chapters warning for cursing adult material and YAOI in later chapters SPOILERS FOR MOST OF THE SERIES 'You preach to me of innocence You try and teach me lies...'
1. Bad Taste

**Chapter one**

'_The dusty ground's no place for ghosts_

_Old souls,_

_Or things to grow_

_But these aren't the hands that will show you heaven_

_The palms crusted in dirt, and smelling of nicotine_

_Funny how you'd learn to love _

_The taste of paradise._

_When the only thing you're used to_

_Is sucking down cigarettes and whiskey_

_Oh, what did I do to you?_

_You goddamn perfect soul…'_

There's something about bad energy that leaves a sour tang on your tongue. It sticks to the roof of your mouth and tastes like a lick to a battery. Wolfwood had been expecting that much when he met Vash the Stampede. The outlaw. The legend. The bad guy? Perhaps that had been him. He'd been given no warning about the man's personality. And why should he? Did 'Master' Knives ever give the time of day to explain these things? The orders were given simple and clear, and it was assumed that you would not dare to question the contents or raise a voice to ask questions. So Chapel didn't know a goddamn thing about Vash, only what he looked like, where to bring him, and not to touch a hair on his body and that was just fine.

And as it turns out, it was Chapel who met Vash, but Wolfwood who was left brooding over what to think of the spastic outlaw that according to Knives, was too damn fine for the likes of Chapel _or_ Wolfwood.

Even though his tongue had been clicking in annoyance, desperately searching since the day he'd met Vash, he could find no such taste. He searched around the scrape of dust in his mouth and a wrinkled up cigarette and found only something sweet for his troubles. Wolfwood didn't even like sweets, he took his coffee black. And the taste was a little _too_ sweet, and a little _too_ fake. Chapel thought he would hate it, and be saved from any unnecessary troubles, but apparently Wolfwood had other ideas about the blonde.

Vash didn't have the same kind of bad flavor he'd been looking for. The bad flavor that they all seemed to carry; from Knives's right hand man Legato, to Hornfreak, hell, even to himself. And during the days when Vash was starting to look a little more attractive, he had to wash the curiosity and lust down by smoking more than he was used to and sucking down whiskey like water.

Bad battery his baptized ass. Vash was too sweet, too good. Maybe if he'd tasted bad, maybe if he _felt _bad, Chapel wouldn't have jumped ship and Wolfwood wouldn't have been so compelled to give his tongue a break from nicotine and whiskey and try something else. Granted, Wolfwood hadn't been able to keep himself away from Hornfreak back in the day, and that man's soul was nearly as twisted as the rest of Gung-Hos'. Then again, Hornfreak was part of the team, and as far as Knives was concerned, he didn't care who you fucked or fucked-up on the team. He _did _care if you were going around trying to screw the enemy, trying to sell your heart and soul to the very prey you were supposed to be keeping in a crystal ball stamped with 'handle with care' and hand delivered to the brother he shared halves with.

Shit.

That's when Chapel the Gung-Ho-Gun, Chapel the ruthless killer, decided to let go in favor of living, and let Wolfwood with all his priestly morals and damn emotions take the burden. Essentially, Wolfwood didn't ever want Vash to meet Chapel. Chapel didn't care; Chapel would shove a gag in Vash's mouth, cover up those pretty green eyes with a scrap of cloth, and carry him off to Knives. So Wolfwood kept Chapel where he was needed, in the fight. When Wolfwood had his hands on Vash, Chapel was no where around.

And Wolfwood did put his hands on Vash. A lot. But it didn't start out that way.


	2. Pleasure Victim

**Chapter two**

'You preach to me of innocence

'_You preach to me of innocence_

_You try and teach me lies_

_If you knew how worthless your words can be_

_Oh, damn I made you cry_

_And there you go again, living a lie_

_Finding solitude in my touches_

_Because I'm a spider,_

_Not a butterfly_

_Oh, if you only knew my own lie_

_It's hidden between kisses,_

_My very own prayed upon lie…'_

The first time he kissed Vash, it was sloppy and awkward. The desert suns were too hot, the morning had been too long, and Vash's lips had been as cracked and dry as the ground beneath them. It wasn't pretty or perfect, though Wolfwood had never expected it to be, and Vash hadn't been letting himself expect it at all. Even though the suns had only just reached noon, they already had half a bottle of whiskey between them, sitting heavy and warm in their bellies and tainting their kisses sticky and sweet.

And then there had been Vash's own flavor of forced enthusiasm, laced beneath the whiskey and complimented with a smile that bordered on a cringe. The whole kissing ordeal had really just been a pain in the ass, and Wolfwood found himself chewing at another cigarette afterwards while Vash looked sheepishly down at the dirt. Still, despite that, Vash's lips had felt good, and the hungry little moan that grated out past Vash's throat brought on a hot wave of lust in Wolfwood.

It would have gone further.

In fact.

"Wolfwood. Um…is that all?" The Vash raised those damn innocent eyes up to Wolfwood and it stung like a bad sunburn. Not because Vash wanted more, but because Vash was worried Wolfwood would _demand _more. There was such childhood innocence, but still a hundred years worth of wisdom in that man.

"Shit. No Tongari. No more. Sorry," Wolfwood cursed, hating himself for doing it in the first place and rearranging uncomfortable tidbits in the lower regions. Yeah, Wolfwood had wanted more. He didn't understand sex much at all, but when the act came around taking it slow was like speaking a foreign language.

But Vash could thank the lord for his coat. It was Vash's saving grace for Wolfwood not pressing the matter, or pressing the outlaw into the packed dirt and sand beneath them. There was too much leather, buckles, snaps, and piping, and Wolfwood's fingers were clumsy and shaky. It would have been a mess anyway to try and solve in the heat of mid-day out in the middle of the damn desert. So he'd just left the kiss at that, and pushed his sunglasses further up on his nose; Vash didn't need to see him scowling as he looked up at him with sad eyes and a sad pout. Damn, and he really hadn't even wanted it in the first place.

"Ya know I would have if—"

"Shut it now before you get ahead of yourself. You would, and you'd hate it, and you damn well know that as good as I do Vash," Wolfwood reprimanded around a cigarette that he'd shoved between his teeth.

Wolfwood wouldn't have been able to stomach doing it anyway. Getting scolded by Vash for getting beneath his belt wouldn't happen. Getting scolded by Hornfreak for getting beneath Vash's belt would have been annoying.

Getting scolded by Knives for fucking his brother would have been death.

If that didn't wither Wolfwood's hard on, the priest didn't know what would.

Besides, for all the free love Vash seemed to spout about, Wolfwood thought it was a bit hypocritical if Vash didn't follow through with some of that 'free love.' The guy could barely handle being touched on an intimate basis, not if he thought there was a little lust behind the motion.

Yeah, Vash reeked of hypocrisy. I want to love, but don't love me. Leave me alone, but go away, touch me, but don't.

Wolfwood rolled his eyes and stretched back against the rock they sat leaning against; ignoring the imploring look Vash still had aimed his direction and trying to chalk up his lust to the heat from the suns.

"Drink your beer Tongari and quit looking at me like that. I'm fine, you're fine. Just forget it happened." Wolfwood tipped his sunglasses down and gave his companion a lopsided grin, which Vash returned, the relief evident in more than his eyes.

"If you ever wanna do that again Wolfwood, I don't think I'd mind too much."

And while Wolfwood gaped open mouthed, cigarette falling to the ground still smoking, Vash gripped the beer and rolled to his feet gracefully, stretching loudly and downing the rest of the warm liquid in a few gulps.

"Aaaaw maaaan that was gross. Don't you hate it when your beer goes flat Wolfood? Now come on, we're wasting time lazing around here!" And with that, the blonde was back up in the side car of Wolfwood's baby, sunglasses high up on his nose, and hands gripping the edges. Rearing and ready to go.

With a sigh, Wolfwood got up, giving his beer bottle an absent kick as he left his cigarette smoking pathetically in its last dying embers. He hopped up onto the motorcycle and turned the key, staring down at the blonde with a scowl. What a way for Vash to confess his own emotions. Now Wolfwood didn't know what to think, and it wasn't the first time either.

Vash stared back up, "Whaaaat? Go!"

And then Vash licked his lips, and it looked way too pretty to see the tip of a pink tongue slide across those lips, and Wolfwood growled, hating the way that Vash looked like he had no idea what he was doing but probably did. He revved the engine, and sped off in a cloud of dust.

Thou shalt not sodomize.

Thou shalt not sodomize with the prey.

Wolfwood, verse 1, chapter 1


End file.
